By Maggie Reimherr
On March 26, 2016, Derek and I promised to love each other in sickness and in health, among other things. On March 27th, we were off to start our marriage in the beautiful Riviera Maya, a tropical land that I still think about on a daily basis. (#takemeback #ineedavacation) Within 24 hours of our wedding, Derek was hugging me while I cried over a bleeding appendage. Romantic, right?
I had been looking forward to the honeymoon as much as the wedding. I’d never been out of the country, and I’d become obsessed with looking at our resort’s website, dreaming of long days by the pool, sipping on frozen fruity cocktails and treating myself to all-you-can-eat gourmet meals. All of my hopes and dreams were resting on this honeymoon.
We arrived at the dreamy, beautiful resort, and I fell in love immediately. They gave us each a cold towel that smelled like lavender. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I put it around my neck. I felt like Cleopatra. 5 minutes in, I had a pina colada in my hand. I was in heaven.
We were soon escorted to our room, which was almost as big as our apartment. There was cold champagne and a plate of apples set out for us in our sitting area. Such luxury.
Later that evening, we decided to dig into the mini fridge, which came fully stocked because all-inclusive resorts are a gift from God. All I wanted was to enjoy a glass bottle Diet Coke while lounging in my fancy bathrobe. I went to open it using the wall-mounted bottle opener in the bathroom. I guess I yanked at it a little too enthusiastically, because with one pull, it had shattered all over my right hand, which was now bleeding profusely.
“DEREK!" I cried out, applying pressure with the resort's very nice, very clean, white towels to stop the bleeding. "I RUINED OUR HONEYMOON, AND WE JUST GOT HERE. Am I going to need stitches? Will I get an infection? I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF MY HEALTH INSURANCE WORKS IN MEXICO!”
"Maggie, it's okay. But please, stop using the white towels on your bloody hand.”
I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and wrapped the entire thing around my hand while Derek called the front desk.
"Hi, yes, my wife is bleeding everywhere. Can we get some bandaids?"
Derek sat me down on the sofa, nursed my wounds, and attempted to calm me down. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. A stranger with a first aid kit walked in, and I was looking helpless in my bathrobe. When I dreamt of the first night of my honeymoon, this wasn’t exactly what I pictured.
"Un poquito Ingles," he said.
"Un poquito Espanol," replied Derek.
The resort paramedic set up on our coffee table, which now contained both medical supplies and two empty bottles of champagne from our arrival (no judgment please). He unrolled my toilet paper bandage looking confused, checked my hand, and said, "Mucho sangre."
"Lots of blood," Derek translated as I willed myself not to cry or pass out.
“Mucho sangre. Mucho sangre,” he repeated, as my stream of consciousness went something like, “WE GET IT. I AM BLEEDING PROFUSELY.”
After the paramedic spent time disinfecting, bandaging, and repeating, I was pleased to find out that I was not actually dying. Who knew? All it took was the help of my husband and a kind stranger (who I doubt were fearing for my long term health).
That evening, we learned an important marital practice: help each other, and when the going gets tough, call in reinforcements - even if that means a kind resort staffer who doesn’t speak English. Like Derek couldn’t bandage me up without someone else’s help, we can’t make it through life without our friends and family supporting us and whole lot of help from Jesus.
After the paramedic left the room, Derek presented me with a fresh, unshattered bottle of Diet Coke. I don’t think I even looked at that bottle opener again for the next 6 days.
More on Millennial Marriage:
Do you have a funny honeymoon or marriage story to share? Email us, and we may feature you on the blog!